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Founder of CAA Michael Ovitz: "I Just Knew I Was Going to Outwork Every One of Them"
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Founder of CAA Michael Ovitz: "I Just Knew I Was Going to Outwork Every One of Them"

Summary

  • Ovitz confirms he and Bill Ackman — friends for 33 years — have made a public, “very well financed” offer to take Universal Music private, with Lucian Grainge running the show as “a condition precedent to the deal.” The trigger: UMG stock “crept down to like, you know, 10 points under the IPO price” even as Grainge grows the company “geometrically every year” — so Ovitz told Ackman, “Let’s take it private,” friendly-only, with Ovitz as chair supporting Grainge on tech and AI. “Whether we get it or not, I have no idea. It’s frankly up to one shareholder… one family that controls 28% of the stock.”
  • The underlying music thesis is that music sits at the foundation of everything digital in the AI era — games, film, TV, image capture — and that “music is never going away.” He flags Suno and Udio “taking IP that other people own, even 10 seconds of it,” but pointedly refuses to say how labels will monetize AI training: it’s “a very difficult problem that right now is under analysis by all the music companies.” His company thesis: without someone who understands talent running the company, “that company is going to die.”
  • At the busiest point of his life, Ovitz says AI makes today more exciting than “the entertainment sweet spot of the late ’70s through the end of the ’90s.” His evidence is speed: Max Levchin once told him a day off felt like missing a week, and now “if I take a day off now, I feel like I’ve missed 3 months”; a researcher friend got “results in 9 months on a cancer cure” from a post-AI trial versus 5-10 years for the four started pre-AI.
  • “We all had to be specialists until AI. Now, we’re all generalists” — though he says his own generalist nature is not caused by AI: “I’ve been like this my whole life.” AI gives people like him more leverage. Prepping for Matsushita (with $15-20B of balance-sheet liquidity in the late ’80s) took four weeks of stockbrokers’ offices, libraries, and a physical 10-K; for his two current transactions, he spent six-seven hours down a rabbit hole on three AI platforms and now works across consumer, defense, medicine, and biopharma — fields he’s “totally unqualified for.”
  • His competitive doctrine is monopoly, not competition: “Competition is for losers because you’re competing with yourself, basically.” When four agency partners said they would never represent movie stars and one called him arrogant for saying CAA would have them all, his reply was “I’m not arrogant at all, actually. I just know I’m going to outwork every one of them” — then he mailed them the torn-out Variety full-page ad for every star signed, weekly, for 10 years. The goal: “blow out the competition as fast, as cleanly, as simply, and as brutally as we can.”
  • CAA’s culture came from Magic Johnson’s showtime fast break — “I didn’t care who scored. I just wanted a score” — plus radical idea intake: 200 chairs tied in a circle every 90 days, 30 seconds each, no passing. A mailroom guy pitched a cable idea and was “promoted on the spot to Asia.” Counter-example: the NCAA playoff he and Phil Knight pitched to 150 college presidents 40 years ago — rejected, validated by a 500-page report, adopted 30 years later; “the amount of money they left on the table was frightening.”
  • The cross-domain success trait: protect the vision, but hold ground only until proven wrong. He watched “Martin Scorsese take Harvey Weinstein apart in a room like he was a toothpick” over dumb notes, and calls Steve Jobs’s intransigence plus willingness to be talked out of it if he agreed “the best trait any businessman can have.” On losses, Barry Diller’s six words govern: “He won, we lost. Next case.”

Deep dive

1. Busier than ever: AI makes today beat entertainment’s golden age

  • Ovitz’s opening claim, unhedged: “It’s the most exciting time I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And that includes the entertainment sweet spot of the late ’70s through the end of the ’90s… pre-streaming.” He started working in technology in ‘92 while still at Sierra and hasn’t stopped: “I literally can’t wait” to get up in the morning.
  • The acceleration, via Max Levchin (Affirm, PayPal): a couple of years ago a day off felt like missing a week; recently, “If I take a day off now, I feel like I’ve missed 3 months.” His most concrete proof point is a cancer-researcher friend running five trials — the four started pre-AI are 5-10 years in the making; the one started post-AI produced “results in 9 months on a cancer cure.”
  • His memorable description of learning from younger people: “Consider me Dracula for the brain” — the Dracula conceit of eternal youth, applied to gray matter. He hedges the enthusiasm once: “there’s a ton of potential downside and I like to not forget that… On the other hand, I feel the upside far outweighs the downside.”

2. “We all had to be specialists until AI. Now, we’re all generalists”

  • The ’70s-’90s were exciting for creating software of the moment — film, tape, music, books — but on ancient mediums. Ovitz now works in consumer products, high-tech, defense, medicine, and biopharma — “things that I’m totally unqualified for. I don’t code” — while AI lets him build vocabulary “really fast” to follow brilliant young minds. He separately says this generalist disposition is not due to AI: “I’ve been like this my whole life.”
  • The before/after he keeps returning to: prepping to meet Matsushita’s C-suite in Hawaii — a company with an unheard-of $15-20B of liquidity in the late ’80s — required four weeks of analog work: a stockbroker’s office, the library, a physical 10-K. For his two current transactions, he spent six-seven hours over two days down a rabbit hole on three AI platforms.
  • The generational version: his 10-year-old grandson at Alpha School in New York (he has “unbelievable respect” for Joe Lomonaco) — two hours a day of hard study off an iPad, and in six months “he’s a different kid. Can’t wait to go to school.”

3. The basics of business are identical everywhere — and he refuses a label

  • On his role: “I don’t want to be typecast.” His generation were specialists — one vocation within film, TV, books; today “you have to be a generalist,” unless you’re a deep scientist “founding Palantir or Anthropic.” Project selection isn’t agonized over: “the choices almost get made by themselves” — is it interesting, will it stand the test of time, can it be built, financed, distributed? “I collect art and people.”
  • His unifying claim: the blocking-and-tackling of business is the same in every field. A film is packaged around talent; “talent, creator, engineer, same thing.” Entertainment financing maps to venture capital, distribution to a DSP, then marketing, profit, culture, and building something that lasts beyond you. The proof he cites: CAA, started 1974, “is as strong today as it was when I was there… 50 years in business proves that it works.”
  • A buried lesson in the Japan years: friends would return from one great Japan meeting saying “I’m going to close,” and he’d laugh — “call me in a year and let me know how you’re doing. None of them closed anything.” He spent a year cultivating relationships before getting a single assignment, reflecting what he described as traditional Japanese executives’ slow-to-trust culture.

4. “I just knew I was going to outwork every one of them”

  • The 1974 origin story: a close William Morris friend over coffee — “So good that you’re starting this business. In a year you’ll be looking for a job… There’s almost 200 agencies out there.” Then four partners of a leading TV literary agency said, “We’ll never represent any movie stars.” When Ovitz answered, “We’re going to have all of them,” one called him arrogant. His reply: “I’m not arrogant at all, actually. I just know I’m going to outwork every one of them.” Every weekly movie-star signing got a full red-page Variety ad — which he tore out and mailed to those four men for the next 10 years.
  • On Peter Thiel’s Stanford monopoly lectures: “He’s spot on… Competition is for losers because you’re competing with yourself, basically. That’s how I view it.” Hence the time discipline Senra witnessed on the plane: minimal calls, meals, and Zooms — “what law is there on the planet that says a Zoom has to be an hour?… I do them in 20 minutes.”
  • The unapologetic frame: “business is a competitive, cutthroat sport. Now I’m not saying you do anything immoral or illegal” — but the point is “to blow out the competition as fast, as cleanly, as simply, and as brutally as we can… until they can’t see straight.”

5. Egoless winning: Magic Johnson’s fast break, Phil Knight, and the playoff money left on the table

  • The lesson that built CAA came from Magic Johnson, whose business he helped start: on the showtime fast break, “he had no goal except to score. And he didn’t care who got that ball in the basket.” Translated: “I didn’t care who scored. I just wanted a score” — and if a task was slow, Ovitz or a department head did it themselves by 5:00 “to prove a point.”
  • On Phil Knight — with whom CAA had a joint venture through Nike: “the most competitive businessman alive, bar none.” Senra’s corroboration from a Jordan biography: someone at Nike warned that if Jordan betrayed Knight, “he will chase you to the ends of the earth.” Ovitz’s mock protest — threatening to end the podcast for not being named among the most competitive — is half a joke.
  • The best specimen of institutional blindness: 40 years ago he and Knight plotted an NCAA College Football Playoff in Beaverton, got an audience via UCLA chancellor Chuck Young, and pitched 150 NCAA presidents in Kansas City with a dual video presentation — to a room that wasn’t listening. The NCAA commissioned a ~500-page report that “came to exactly what we told them,” then did the playoff 30 years later. “The amount of money they left on the table was frightening.”

6. The hard side of creative genius is vision-protection — and it’s the same instinct in founders

  • Creatives have “a much harder side than people tend to imagine,” and it exists to protect the vision: he watched “Martin Scorsese take Harvey Weinstein apart in a room like he was a toothpick” over “the dumbest notes imaginable” — his verdict: the producer shouldn’t have been in the editing room, and “nobody should be giving Marty notes about the core of his film… It’s a joke.”
  • The Rain Man example, as told: Dustin Hoffman couldn’t find the character in the first week; Barry Levinson had the patience to let him — “which is hard because you’re losing money every day” — then found the balance of improvisation versus script. “The movie’s perfect. Perfect from beginning to end.”
  • Senra bridged this to founders with the framing that “the founder is the guardian of the company’s soul.” Ovitz then described Josh Kushner as unchanged since Harvard Business School — “will hold his ground, but… he’ll yield his position if you can talk him out of it” — and Steve Jobs, whom he consulted for on Pixar: “completely intransigent on things, yet you could talk him out of it if he agreed… The best trait any businessman can have.”

7. Ideas from anybody, and never look back

  • CAA’s mechanism: every 90 days, 200 people in a circle with chairs literally tied together — no way out, everyone pitches 30 seconds, no passing, and Ovitz coaxed the silent ones. “A mailroom guy pitched an idea about cable. We promoted him on the spot to Asia. On the spot. It was that good.”
  • His theory of originality is appropriation: “Some of the greatest ideas I’ve ever had, I’ve stolen or appropriated from other people” — like Picasso’s bull sculpture welded from bicycle handlebars and a seat, and Picasso’s early faces drawn from the 50 African masks he bought for 4 or 5 francs at Paris fairs.
  • On losses, Barry Diller’s six words after losing a bid to Sumner Redstone: “He won, we lost. Next case.” Ovitz is “so upset” with friends who dwell on lost deals — and turns his own record into product: “I’ve made every mistake in business you can make… My goal is to use that to prevent my young people from making further mistakes.”

8. The Universal Music take-private — and the AI precedents from Jurassic Park to Beijing

  • The deal, as he tells it: after a discussion with 33-year friend Bill Ackman about his UMG position, Ovitz noticed the stock “crept down to like 10 points under the IPO price” while Lucian Grainge grows the company “geometrically every year” — “I said to Bill, ‘Let’s take it private.’” Friendly only (“Bill has done both”), a public letter with money terms on the table, Grainge running the show as “a condition precedent,” Ovitz as chair helping on tech and AI. “We’re waiting for an answer… It’s frankly up to one shareholder… one family that controls 28% of the stock.”
  • The thesis stack: without a talent person running an entertainment company, “that company is going to die”; music is “at the foundation of so many things that are digitally based”; and Suno and Udio are already “taking IP that other people own, even 10 seconds of it.” On how labels monetize AI, a deliberate non-answer: “a very difficult problem that right now is under analysis by all the music companies.” His analogue: the 1996 U.S. trade delegation he joined after being appointed by President Clinton, traveling to Beijing with 20 businesspeople and Bush 41 over China’s pirated videocassette movies and television shows — then the world’s largest producer of pirated tape — where he sat with Jiang Zemin and Zhu Rongji.
  • On technology serving story, the Jurassic Park case: he told Michael Crichton “you don’t need a big star cuz the dinosaur’s the star,” and only one human could realize it — Spielberg, who “called me the next day, said, ‘I’m in,’” then integrated CGI with filmed dinosaur parts so it wouldn’t “look like an early Godzilla movie.” Against Ed Catmull’s ~4-minutes-of-CGI figure relayed by Senra: “I believe there’s more than 4 minutes.”
  • The closing worry is cultural amnesia: at a film class, no hands went up for David Lean, Frank Capra, William Wyler, or Michael Curtiz — “there’s no respect for the foundation of the film business” — contrasted with artist Cecily Brown’s knowledge of the chain of influence through Lucian Freud. His summation: “most great art is derived from other art… knowledge is power.”